White mist, white sky, white ground.
Asyndetically I stand anonymously among the silence.
no one to the left, nor right.
This once fertile pasture is now a
shadow of its former self.
A silhuette forms in the distance and I tremble,
fear consumes you at a time like this.
The cold sweat on a warm face,
I love this adrenaline.
Negativly capable, I dont care for either argument.
If she never arrives it will be perfect?
because our lips never touch it is perfect.
because I never heard you sing I embrace it.
Danny, James Archer
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-is-not-an-ode/
